Page 10 of Knave

“Mouse,” her sister pleaded, rising from her chair.

“I love you, Maddie. You don’t have to worry about me. Be happy with Noah. You deserve it. I’ll play another round of chess with you tomorrow.” Mouse walked out of the room, tears pricking her eyes. She ventured down several hallways, humming to herself, staring at the floor, not wanting to meet anyone’s heavy stares. As she rounded the corner, she bumped into a broad,naked, chest, his abs perfectly sculpted. “Bollocks.”

Without glancing up, she knew it was Ferris by his comforting rosewood scent. Not only that, but the raven tattoo he’d designed on the left side of his stomach and the chain necklace with the white gold ring dangling. He only wore his dark jeans slung low, paired with his black boots, just as he always did when he wasn’t on guard shift and practicing his drums.

“Why hello there. Fancy running into you here,” he teased, grinning as he tilted her chin up, his dark irises meeting hers. “You should keep your eyes up when you walk, luv.”

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him, squeezing him too tight. Ferris’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, that alluring rhythm drawing her in. With his bare skin pressed to her cheek, his scent became stronger, and as on the previous night, her fangs threatened to fall. There was a need, a drive, to tear into him. His throat, his wrist, then unbuckle and slide down his jeans ever so slowly so she could pierce his thigh with her teeth. She just wanted to taste him, his blood.

What the bloody hell was wrong with her? He wasn’t mortal anymore, his blood wouldn’t satisfy her hunger. Perhaps it was a different sort of craving she yearned for… She wanted to discover what else rested beneath his jeans. He was so tall, and she wondered how big his length was, how it would fit inside her mouth, slide against her tongue… Horrified at the thought, she drew out of Ferris’s grasp—herfriend—and backed away from him. “I gotta go.”

“Mouse, wait—”

Before she could hear the rest of what he was going to say, she dashed from the hallway, past the stringed instruments hanging on the walls, and ran out the back door of the palace. She’d always loved feasting on Ferris, but she hadn’t thought about tasting him like this before. This was Rav and Imogen’s fault.Steady, Mouse. You just need a human to drink from.

Mouse didn’t pause as she darted around the daisies and leapt into the mirror portal leading to the mortal world. It spat her out onto her stomach in the cemetery and Des wiggled in her pocket. The night was pitch black with a sliver of the moon in the sky—not a single owl hooted, but a rustling of one stirred in the tree above her. Pushing herself up from the damp grass, she checked on Des, finding her back asleep, before hurrying in the direction of the clubs.

On this night, she would slip into one where mortals pretended to be vampires. Once she made a vicious kill at a club, she would wait a bit before returning to it.

She thought about Ferris, when he’d first come to the palace, how surprise, anger, relief, and fright filled her at seeing him there. He shouldn’t have risked his life, shouldn’t have bedded Imogen to become a servant at her palace. Mouse didn’t deserve what he’d done—she hadn’t deserved that sort of friendship. Then there had been the drawings he’d snuck to her, ones that she looked at over and over after each threat, each beating, each death.

As she crossed the street toward the clubs, Mouse dropped her fangs. She could be her immortal self and easily blend in at the mortal vampire club.

She opened the door to a sleek black building and a broad man with auburn hair to his waist greeted her. “ID,” he grunted over the loud music and adjusted his septum piercing.

Cocking her head, Mouse locked gazes with the man, letting her influence seep into him. “I’m old enough. Now let me in.”

Eyes glazed, he nodded and she walked down a hall, decorated with framed vampire posters, into the main room where bodies danced against one another. A heavier song took over, its beats pounding like a rapid heart. Blood pulsed in tune inside the crowd’s veins, and she wanted to taste each precious throat. A monstrous side of her wanted to shred them apart, drink them dry until nothing was left.

Mouse tightened her fists, steadying her breaths while scanning their attire. Several wore fangs, white or black contacts, bat wings, cloaks, leather, bondage, vinyl.

Her mouth was dry, and the thirst took over. She studied the room, then the bar, deciding who she would feed on tonight. A young man sat at the bar and she was about to just take him when a woman behind him, wearing a leather miniskirt and a fishnet shirt over a black bra, poured a clear liquid into a drink without the mortal seeing, then handed it to him. Mouse’s brows rose. She hadn’t seen a woman attempt to roofie a male before, and it looked as though it would be a death tonight instead of a feeding.

Mouse took the cup from the man’s hand before he could drink from it. “Go dance,” she said, persuading him out of his seat with her influence.

“Excuse me, bitch?” the woman spat, her fake fangs exposed.

Mouse stilled, the blood in her veins pulsing hot. Her voice came out quiet, deadly. “I think I’ve experienced worse than name-calling before. Come with me outside.”

The woman’s eyes glazed over and she nodded. It wasn’t as fun this way, but the mortal wouldn’t have followed her outside like the man had the other night.

Tonight she’d planned to feed on numerous mortals until her thirst was quenched, but draining one who’d done wrong would be more fulfilling.

When they got outside, Mouse led the mortal to the back of the building where only the rubbish bin lingered, its decaying stench drifting in the air. She released her influence on the woman to see the horror on her face, then lunged forward, shredding her throat apart as she fed, lapping up the taste, thefeel, of the blood on her tongue.

“What is this?” a man stuttered.

Mouse jerked her head up to a mortal holding a bag of rubbish. His eyes widened at the blood covering her mouth, her dress.Monster, he thought—she could see it in his expression.

His blood caressed her nose—she couldn’t control herself and leapt forward, knocking him to the building. Mouse pierced his throat with her fangs, yearning for only a taste.

She needed to stop.

But she was unable to stop.

She tore into him the way she had the woman, drinking all of his essence, relishing in the moment. His body was limp in her arms and she drew back, shaking. Des stirred in her pocket, fully alert. Since the donor building, Mouse had promised herself no more innocents.

What had shedone?

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